


The Isle of Dreams

by music_box



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Link's Awakening
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Cultural Differences, Gen, Isolation, Short, relationships don’t always mean romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-23 17:00:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30058653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/music_box/pseuds/music_box
Summary: Have you ever fallen in love with something you couldn't understand?These drabbles aren’t about ships, but about how people deal with feelings of isolation and meaninglessness.1. Intro2. How the Mermaid Lost Her ScaleConnected stories about a different Koholint.
Relationships: Link/Marin (Legend of Zelda)
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

Koholint is no more, but we will remember it through stories.

Stories not of the hero, or the adversary, but of a place so wonderful and contentious — an isle of dreams. What did visitors say, when they first stepped onto the sandy Toronbo Shores under the harsh glare of noon? Unlike one certain amnesiac, their first impressions were almost always of displeasured surprise. _The sun is so hot!_ they muttered. As if sunburns didn’t exist in paradise.

Make no mistake — locals and visitors alike fell in love with Koholint. But only the visitors who overstayed could also truly hate it. The island, as it was, had a peculiar culture. Whatever was real to the islanders was unreal to the visitors, and vice versa. For example, there was a local girl named Marin, from Mabe Village, who sang so beautifully in the Koholint tradition that many likened her to a bird. The visitors, having heard tales of Koholint’s strangeness, would guilelessly ask if she truly was a talking bird! And yet, time after time, these visitors would go on day trips to the rapids, or perhaps enjoy a bit of sightseeing around the castle. They found what they knew, and knew what they found. So as it was said: on Koholint, the visitors were the only ones who never got lost.

That is, until an even more sleep-swept young man arrived one day, not by boat or by wings, and certainly not of his own desire. Thus marked the start of another stormy relationship with Koholint. So many visitors arrived with ideas of what they could find there. But who can say with dreams? This young man, being quite memory-challenged, did not know what he would find, and was also quite courageous. But he harbored the same pesky ideal as others like him — that Koholint was strange.

Perhaps it was fate that Marin met this young man, as she was in the midst of getting lost herself. Marin loved to sing, and hers was the heart of an islander, through and through. Marin had dreams of connection, of learning what the visitors meant when they said her voice sounded like an engine running on honey. _Is that good or bad?_ she would ask. They would laugh and say it was a compliment, but somehow their imitations never felt flattering.

But when she sang for the young man, his eyes lit up with such wonder that all her doubts melted away. He told her she was as breathtaking as the island, and put a hibiscus in her hair. _Marin, as lovely as deep marine._

It was a wonderful time. Together, they explored under seemingly every leaf of the island, every darkened stone. But slowly, something changed.

 _Don’t you ever wish you were a seabird?_ she asked the young man once, after they had spent many days together under the sun and shadow. _Better a seabird than a songbird. Then I could fly away to the mainland, far across the ocean._ But he didn’t know what she meant. Not until she was gone.

According to local religion, Koholint existed in the mind of a creature called the Wind Fish. It was said to dream atop Mt. Tamaranch, the highest point on the island. Long ago, the Wind Fish populated Koholint with dreams. The islanders believed themselves to be the descendants of those dreams, still searching for the right people to inspire. 

On the surface, Koholint was achingly beautiful. A little deeper, and it was just breathtaking allure. To be looked at, appreciated, and wondered over. But to all visitors, it was ultimately unknowable. The longer they gazed, the more frustrated they became. Why was it one way and not the other? Why did people do this or that? And why, for the love of the goddess, did no one else seem as utterly adrift as the young man felt sometimes, surrounded by such stifling beauty? _But that is how it is here!_ Marin would reply, confused. _You were the one who wanted to stay!_

He had stayed for her, and the guilt he felt for leaving. But as he gazed at the spread of ocean, the memory of Marin’s song fading away, he wished she had been a seabird, too.


	2. How the mermaid lost her scale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this on sleep deprivation. Apologies for any mistakes, I may go back and edit later.
> 
> I wrote a backstory for the mermaid

The mermaid lived in the sea-cave in the middle of the bay. Years of gentle and battering waves had hollowed out the lone outcropping of old coral, wearing away its sharp edges, exposing new cracks and pockets of shelter. She did not count the cycles of the moon, but knew that on their own rhythm, the turtles swam to shore and laid their eggs, and that every once in a while, the currents brought clumps of brown seaweed, tasty and fresh, from another sunlit land.

In the daytime she would go exploring, swimming, chatting with the turtles and drawing pictures in the sand of the seabed, but rarely venturing out of the calm of the bay. Though sometimes in the evenings, she would climb on top of the outcropping, its jagged outer surface threatening to tear at any skin not protected by her scales. And she would sing, softly. She had long ago given up on a response, but it was only during these times that she allowed herself to remember the past, and others like her, and cut herself with the memories.

Summer brought a rush of visitors to Koholint, and though it was quite easy for the mermaid to avoid them (just duck under the waves), she grew irritated at all the floating objects that appeared at the surface. (She only learned the word, “summer,” later, when it was always on a visitor’s lips.) In Koholint, it was always summertime, and the mermaid had never seen a leaf wither or fall into the water. The not-leaf objects eventually washed up onto shore like dead seaweed, got caught in the teeth of her cave, and even got tangled around a turtle’s throat. At first, she thought they might have some use. Though she herself could not tell what it might be, she was neither too versed on the customs of visitors. So she began collecting them, the floating, colorful things, and returning them to the shore — not carelessly, like the waves, but in neat piles on the sand, arranged by color like sunlight on a pearl. _Here, take these back — the only color for the sea is blue._ Perhaps the visitors would be glad their lost possessions had returned. But no — they remained in the same spot, day after day, until the wind carried them back to the sea.

One day, the fisherman approached her. She was not afraid, because she knew that he was not a true fisherman. Rather than fishes, he cast his line into the water for entertainment. The fisherman waved at her to come closer, and the mermaid, curious, swam up to his boat. _Mermaid! I see you digging through the flotsam. Perhaps I can ask a favor?_ In his hand, he held a small object. It was circular, with a hole in the middle, and about the size and brightness of a full moon. It was rather pretty, and the mermaid had seen some exquisite shells in her lifetime. _Can you find me things like this?_ With a gesture, the mermaid drew it closer, but the fisherman still did not drop it into her hand. _What is it?_ she gestured. The fisherman pulled back. _They are things I have lost._ He must have noticed her gaze, still fixated on the object. _If you find me five similar ones, I will give this one to you._

The mermaid, eager to find meaning in the task she had already been doing, took to looking for objects like the one the fisherman had showed her. In a week, the fisherman returned on his boat. The mermaid showed him the handful of objects she had collected — but the fisherman shook his head at every one. _These are not the same. Look, this one is too dull. And this one too light. These are merely trinkets!_

The mermaid had swum to one of the more remote areas of the bay, a cluster of coves hidden in the cliffs, in hopes of finding the fisherman’s object. As she approached one, she heard a voice singing — sad and quiet — practically a twin of her own tune! The mermaid burned with curiosity. She sped towards the sandy shore, and when it was in sight, her heart nearly leapt to her throat. She saw a figure with long brown hair sitting on a rock, the wind gently playing on the ends. _Are you…?_ She cleared her throat. Singing had kept her voice in use over the years, but when she tried to speak now, it came out as a croak. _Are you…_ she sang softly. _Are you a mermaid too?_

The figure turned abruptly, and met the mermaid’s eyes in shock. Her heart dropped to her stomach as the figure leapt up, on two legs, then promptly stumbled down. _Ouch!_ The mermaid wanted to cry with disappointment. Of course it was just a visitor! But now she was torn between making her quick exit, and making sure the visitor had not injured herself due to the mermaid’s imprudence. 

Cautiously, the mermaid swam closer to the rock. The visitor was dusting herself off, brushing off the sand from her clothing and rubbing her elbow. _Are you alright? I didn’t mean to startle you._

The visitor started and turned towards the mermaid again, this time with a laugh. _I’m fine! So you’re the mermaid who lives in the bay?_ The mermaid nodded her assent. The visitor raised her eyebrow. _So the stories were true, then._ She stepped up to the edge of the water and gave the mermaid another long look, then suddenly burst into a giggle.

_What is it?_

_Oh, no — it’s nothing!_ The visitor’s cheeks were red with embarrassment. _I’ve never met a mermaid before! Do you live here?_

The mermaid shook her head no. _I came to find something,_ she sang.

 _What are you looking for?_ The visitor’s eyes suddenly lit up. _Maybe I can help you find it!_

 _Well…_ the mermaid began, dubiously. _I’m looking for an object._ Not _a ‘trinket.’ It’s small. It’s circular. And it’s bright, like the moon. I think I can find it in the bay. Oh, and I need five of them._

The visitor tilted her head, thoughtful. _I have to go now, but I’ll be back tomorrow, here, to help you look._

Before she turned to go, the visitor gave the mermaid another smile. _By the way, I didn’t catch your name?_

The mermaid paused, reaching for the word almost beyond her grasp. _I’m Martha._

The response was: _I’m Summer._

___

She realized, one day, that she had not sung on top of her cave for weeks. In any way, she was already singing quite a bit by talking to Summer, whenever they went searching for the objects. Together they made a great team, as Summer could not dive deep to the sea floor, and Martha could not venture far onto shore. They started calling all the objects they had found “trinkets,” as an inside joke. The next time the fisherman came, Martha presented him with a bag full to bursting of different mysterious trinkets, each one painstakingly found after hours of searching, and hours of fun. Sometimes, Summer would know the names of the trinkets, and taught them to Martha. Now she finally had words for the countless things she had collected — bottle caps, seaglass, CD fragment, screws, and more! It was a success — the fisherman set aside four trinkets that he deemed similar enough to the one he had initially shown the mermaid. Looking quite pleased with himself, he told her, _A promise is a promise! Find me one more, and the object I first showed you is yours!_

Martha swam back to the secluded beach, where Summer had been waiting. Happily, she relayed what the fisherman had told her. They only needed to find one more trinket!

 _That’s great!_ Summer smiled, and leaned back onto the sand. But then she tugged at her hair, the way she did when she was nervous. _But Martha…I was wondering… why is the thing the fisherman has so important to you?_

Martha looked at Summer in surprise. _Well…_ She realized she didn’t know. _I think… I want to find out what it is._

_What?_

_No, that’s not right… It was so pretty! That must be why the fisherman is looking for it. I think… rather than wanting to know what the object is… I want to have something so beautiful._

Summer sat up. _Really?_ After a moment, she looked away. _Listen… I can’t help you look for trinkets anymore._

_It’s silly, isn’t it?_

_No, Martha —_ Summer looked sad. _I can’t come here anymore. I’m going to leave the island soon._

That was too much. Of course, she had always known it couldn’t last forever. Visitors never stayed on Koholint. But how could Martha find the trinkets by herself? She needed Summer to tell her whether a trinket was a soda tab or an earring post. Now Martha would never be able to obtain the fisherman’s object. She would never have something so beautiful.

Summer waded into the water and put an arm around Martha as she started to cry. Her long brown hair, now bleached blond by the sun in places, fell across her face.

In hindsight, it really was silly. What was an object, anyway? She and Summer had wasted so much time searching for them, and now she was going to be gone. She would lose two of the things she had most wanted before she ever had them.

___

Summer came back to say goodbye. _I have something for you._ She opened her hand.

 _A trinket!_ It was one Martha had never seen before. Where did Summer find it?

_No, it’s not — well, it is but — I want to give it to you. Don’t give it to the fisherman — it’s yours._

Martha touched the trinket, cool and smooth under her fingertips. Where would she keep it? It had to be kept safe from the waves. As if reading her thoughts, Summer suddenly took the trinket and laced it around the mermaid’s neck.

_Now you have it too._

That made her happy. It was almost painful how happily she ached. She would always have something beautiful.


End file.
